Next week is one of celebration. I’m turning 42 and my blog will be two years old.
Two years of faithful writing.
Two years of publishing an essay a week.
Two years of sitting down in front of the screen, equipped with a keyboard and the willingness to give a voice to the bouncing thoughts in my head.
I sat down many times absolutely motivated, words spilling faster than I could type them down.
I sat down most times completely uninspired, wondering what on earth I could talk about.
I sat down sometimes somewhat discouraged, pondering whether the effort was even worth it.
I set a goal to write two years ago and that’s what I’ve done. I wrote during my daughter’s Capoeira class with the blaring soundtrack of drums and pandeiros. I wrote to the soothing melody of classical music during my daughter’s ballet practice. I wrote on the beach and at the library. I wrote abroad, in planes and trains. I wrote at home sitting at my dinner table. I even wrote in the bathroom.
I wrote steadily, steadfastly, undeterred by my moods, unaffected by my environment, deaf and blind to anything that could have served as an excuse not to.
In these two years, my readership has grown very slowly. My blog can by no mean be called “successful” based on statistical data. Yet I stand tall and proud.
98 essays, I’ve written.
98 times, I pressed the pause button to examine my life; to extricate what binds me to the rest of humanity and what makes me different.
98 ways, I’ve reached out and attempted to use my own experience to help others; hoping that words would be the impactful echo to my thoughts that resonates within someone else.
A few of my essays were re-posted on bigger blogs; some got a shout out on Facebook by women who have a bigger audience; a couple were even printed on the glossy pages of a homeschooling magazine; but none of this is what kept me going.
The key to my perseverance is that, very early on, I resolved that no outside factor would determine whether I kept on writing or not. I had no specific outcome in mind. I hadn’t set any goal besides that of actually writing.
Would I like to make it big? Yes! Of course!
Is it unlikely? Yes! Most definitely!
In this season of my life, I have no time to invest in learning the ropes of landing an agent or getting a deal with a publishing company. The written piece is my finish line.
I look at my week, put writing on the schedule, do it at the appointed time and that’s all I need to feel accomplished. It’s fail-proof.
I have made victory easy to achieve but it is nonetheless a sweet victory. I feel triumphant not because of outer validation but simply because I followed through with what I set out to execute.
This is what my soon to be 42 years on this earth have earned me: the confidence to feel good about myself right now.
My younger self was demanding to the point of persecution. I was never satisfied and always looked to someone else for approval. Young Sarah hoped that some day, some time, she would be enough. Well, that day has come!
I am an almost 42-year-old wife, mother, martial artist, and writer, who loves herself and loves her life.
What could be greater success than that?
Thank you for reading. It does mean a lot to me that you have taken time out of your day to be here. If you care to leave me a birthday gift, I would love it if you left a comment and told me a little about you and how you found the blog and which of my essays has been the most helpful to you. You can subscribe using the widget below to be notified when a new post is published.
I am a mother and also a psychologist. I look forward to the honesty in each of your posts. You have a beautiful knack for giving voice to things that most people feel but often don’t say. Thank you for being an inspiration over these past two years!
Thank you!